


Dressrosa Colosseum

by FireFaceOutlook



Series: Crack Ships [1]
Category: One Piece
Genre: But it's totally there, Crack Pairing, I think I'm the only one who ships it, Is this a crack pairing?, Just hints of it, M/M, No major romance, You Decide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 09:59:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8200942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireFaceOutlook/pseuds/FireFaceOutlook
Summary: “Block B's match will start soon!”
“Okay,” Bartolomeo replied.
“And did you see a competitor named Capman?” was added, almost as an afterthought.
“I don't think so,” came the answer with a slight laugh as the image of the marine, bloody and draped over trash where he belonged, came to Bartolomeo's mind.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **(A/N: Well, I didn't think it was possible for me to pair Bartolomeo with anyone but Cavendish thanks to all the fanart, but then I met Gambia and I just couldn't help myself... Am I the first one to ship these two? I don't know, but let me know what you think anyway. _Spoilers!!!_ For Dressrosa, but nothing major, just for episodes 634 and 635.)**

“Oi, Gambia, where are you going?”

The blond staff officer of the Barto Club stopped, turning slightly to his captain, who was reclining against a wall and picking his nose with his pinky while ignoring the other fighters who were betting on who would win in Block A's battle royal.

“Out for a walk,” Gambia replied with a grin. “My block of fighters isn't going to be called out for a while.”

Bartolomeo grunted, then waved his free hand dismissively. “Yeah, okay. Just don't get disqualified.”

Gambia laughed loudly and said before leaving, “Don't worry about me, captain.”

  


The corridors of the Corrida Colosseum were empty and quiet, so it was quite easy to overhear the voice (or voices?) coming from the dressing room.

_“'Pirate Mercenary' Hajrudin! Cavendish! And 'The Missionary' Gambia?!”_ one voice was listing off in growing worry before abruptly falling silent.

“Yeah, there are a bunch of bad eggs,” the second voice agreed after a moment as Gambia took his time approaching the room.

_“It's gonna be big trouble if one of these guys wins the Mera Mera no Mi!”_

“I was surprised about Burgess, too.”

_“I'll talk to Issho-san right away.”_

“Okay.”

By this point, Gambia was at the doorway, so he decided to announce his presence.

“Oi, oi!” he called. “Young man, are you talking to yourself?”

He peered around the edge of the doorway, grinning. There only appeared to be one man there, but Gambia could've sworn he heard two different voices.

The man in the room wrote something down on the clipboard in his hand, seemingly ignoring his visitor, who decided to continue speaking.

“You were talking to somebody out there, weren't you?” he asked, leaning against the wall and pointing at the man. “You're fishy,” he added bluntly, then snickered. 

The man finally looked at him, scowling. _Progress,_ Gambia decided.

Undeterred, he wandered closer, purposely getting in the man's personal space. “Am I right? Am I right?” He eyed the clipboard. “What's that note?”

Dark and broody shifted away slightly, adjusting his cape.

“You were whispering those cool guys' name.” He couldn't help but brag, “'The Missionary' Gambia. That's...” He pointed to himself. “...me!”

The man wasn't even looking at him anymore.

“What are you up to?”

No reply.

“You can't say?!” he cackled, then his smile dimmed slightly as his tone took a more serious note. “Don't tell me you're a Navy soldier...”

The man moved so suddenly that Gambia didn't have time to react as a hand was clamped firmly over his mouth and something cold and sharp dug into his throat, enough to make rivulets of blood drop towards his collarbone. He was left with the man positioned behind him and a Den Den Mushi sitting on the previously occupied crate in front of him.

_“Are you all right, sir? Please respond.”_

That was the first voice Gambia had heard while traveling down the hall, the source on the other side of the Snail.

“Everything's fine,” the man behind him stated calmly. “I'll call you back in ten minutes.”

“Roger that.”

Then the Snail fell asleep with a dull 'clank'.

Now that the Navy soldier's full attention was on him, Gambia struggled not to move, eyes flickering from the man's face to his hand and the blade that sat below it.

“You don't wanna put your nose in any further,” the marine warned.

“I won't!” Gambia tried to say, voice muffled.

“'The Missionary' Gambia.” The voice dipped into something more threatening. “Go away.”

The staff officer narrowed his eyes as he glanced at the man. In that moment, he was unsure if he was going to be released or killed, and he didn't want to stick around and find out. Besides, he had to find his captain and warn him that the Navy was around. So he elbowed the marine once one of the handle's of his nun-chuck was in his hand, then swung his weapon up to strike the man across the face. A hit to the gut and another face-strike in followed in rapid succession before Gambia sent the man flying into a couple of boxes as he turned on his heel to flee.

“That bastard!” he heard behind him.

He turned his head in time to witness the marine swinging his axe towards him, then everything was a blur.

  


On the edge of consciousness, Gambia registered the voice of the marine he just lost to.

“This is Maynard.” He was obviously talking through the Den Den Mushi again. There was the sound of running water in the background of his voice. “Excuse me for hanging up earlier. Everything is okay here.”

The water shut off and he heard Maynard's footsteps walking past him.

“Oh, and earlier, I mentioned a name – 'The Missionary' Gambia who works under Bartolomeo. But you can cross it out. It wasn't him I saw after all.”

Gambia couldn't move, even as dull anger rose to the surface of his mind, and though he desperately wanted to beat up that marine or at least flip him the bird, he couldn't do more than weakly utter, “D-damn! That Navy soldier...”

Then he passed out.

  


“I'll keep going on with the plan here, too.”

Bartolomeo stepped out of the shadows as the Navy soldier disappeared down the corridor. A feral grin sat on his lips as his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Then he turned and entered the room that the marine had left, grin fading as he took in the beaten form of his staff officer laying across bags of trash.

“Oi,” he called.

No response came from Gambia, meaning he was unconscious or... An unhappy noise escaped Bartolomeo's throat. He approached his subordinate's body, crouching next to it and jabbing two fingers against his throat, searching for a pulse. When he found it, he relaxed slightly. The medical room wasn't too far from where they currently were and the Block A battle royal had just ended, so he could sneak Gambia in amongst those injured fighters.

Deciding to go with that plan, Bartolomeo grabbed one of Gambia's arms and draped it over his shoulders, standing and easily lifting the slim man with him. He needed to be quick about dropping his nakama off; he had some revenge to enact.

  


It didn't take long to catch up to the marine bastard, since he wasn't in a hurry despite just beating up a super rookie's crewmate. Bartolomeo followed silently behind until Maynard stopped and turned towards him, obviously having detected his presence. Bartolomeo kept a relaxed pose, hands in his pockets, as he took a few steps forward so the man could better see who he was dealing with.

“How could you do such a dirty thing, Navy- _san_?” he asked rhetorically, voice shaking slightly with anger he kept concealed. “You people sent in a rat to this competition to arrest all the wanted pirates, didn't you?”

“What are you talking about?” Maynard kept a straight face despite his obvious (to Bartolomeo) lie.

Bartolomeo laughed. “You're good at playing dumb! But I can't just let you go after getting my dear subordinate beaten.”

The marine glared. “I guess I'd better silence you, Bartolomeo.”

“I can't believe how famous I became!” the pirate responded, serving to further anger the Navy soldier, who dropped into a fighting stance.

  


Honestly, Bartolomeo had expected more of a challenge from the marine who put his subordinate down for the count, but then again, having such a useful Devil Fruit came in handy.

“I can't believe this,” Maynard rumbled, clutching his right side.

Barolomeo laughed, amused that his opponent thought he could win in the first place. “You're too weak and this is like a joke, Navy- _san_.”

Maynard attempted to attack again and Bartolomeo pulled his hands out of his pockets, triggering his ability to finish it; after all, he had a battle royal to attend and an injured nakama to check up on.

  


“Competitors of Block B! Is Capman here? And Bartolomeo?”

Bartolomeo strolled down the corridor behind the Colosseum staff member, making his footsteps loud enough to hear.

“You're Bartolomeo, aren't you?” the man asked after turning to see him.

The pirate didn't bother to answer such a stupid question as he passed him.

“Block B's match will start soon!”

“Okay,” Bartolomeo replied.

“And did you see a competitor named Capman?” was added, almost as an afterthought.

“I don't think so,” came the answer with a slight laugh as the image of the marine, bloody and draped over trash where he belonged, came to Bartolomeo's mind.


End file.
